Liquid Fire
by The Moonlight's Marionette
Summary: James/Male OC. Its like liquid fire when their eyes meet, A bolt of electricity when their bodies touch, an irrisistable tenderness when thier lips brush together. And a pang of guilt in the moments after.


It's like molten heat, when his eyes collide with a pair of olive gems three tables down. The air in the library is thick and heavy, a production of both the humid, cloudy day, and the roaring fires all around, but he's acutely aware of his body temperature for other reasons.

The pages of the book beneath his hands are left un-noticed, if they ever were. All he knows is that his eyes are glued to a person he longs to be near but can't.

His chest constricts, making it hard to breathe, and soon he is panting, his lips parting slightly to allow shallow breaths. He swallows thickly, feeling his heart throb against his rib cage, trying to escape. Or explode.

Whichever occurs first.

It is always like this, when their eyes meet.

It has been like this for some time. Like the crack of lightning, sharp and overwhelming. A bolt of electricity that makes his hair stand on end and prickles every inch of his body. No one is capable of inducing such a reaction in him. Not even the red-headed beauty at his side, currently clutching his arm and furiously scanning the fine print in a rather large book.

A huge undertaking it was, to secure her, to make her see his feelings and intentions and eventually convince her of his sincerity, and then… it all went down the drain so fast.

She was his. But then there is _him_.

The handsome enigma with captivating eyes and a caress to match, who draws his attention every time a chance arises. It didn't take long for him to become consumed.

The slight movement of the eyes and a gesture with a chin over to the darkest part of the room makes his heart jump.

Now? Here?

He is with Lily.

Things could get complicated, not to mention this is just plain reckless! But that boy has always been wild and unpredictable.

The idea scares, excites and evokes a pang of guilt all at once. With a tug of his restricting collar in favor of his now uncomfortable slacks, he runs shaking fingers through his hair. He looks down over his shoulder; Lily is unaware of the change, she's immersed, her mouth moving while she reads.

She looks so innocent, more innocent than the lithe frame that has risen and now walks slowly between shelves to disappear around a corner.

James looks down at her one more time, and then into the dark corner and its possibilities.

"James is something wrong?" her soft voice calls when he closes the book and gets up.

Her voice is full of concern as are her eyes. They make him feel like a monster, a horrible beast that doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as she.

"N-No, what I'm looking for isn't in this book. I'll need another one."

"Oh…" is all she says, accepting his lie with ease.

Turning away he stalks off, unable to look at her any longer without feeling like he's being run-in with a knife.

Sweat is beading on his upper lip and over his brow.

He bites his lip in anticipation at first, and then to hold back a groan at the sight of the boy half hidden in shadows, flickering light playing over his pale, unmarred skin, silky black tresses that fall into his eyes around his shoulders, the exposed teeth that he can see through his wicked sneer.

"Potter," he says huskily, softly, raising his chin in acknowledgement and smiling fully.

James shivers.

His voice, his eyes, his presence.

He wants to be in control but that has long since been abandoned in favor of sweet subservience, and he doesn't mind one bit.

"Monte. What are you trying to pull? I'm with Lily right now." Miraculously, his voice is steady and words come out. He's afraid of all the other things that might roll of his tongue without his permission.

The other merely raises an elegant eyebrow in mild disbelief. It is well beyond the point where James can feign innocence and they both know it.

"Oh?" He pushes up off the shelf he is leaning on to stand directly in front of James, keeping his heavy lidded eyes on James' mouth. "What if I said I missed you? Would that be enough to make you stay with me right now?"

James stood stock still, painfully aware of the warm breath assaulting his face and his sky rocketing pulse. "D-Depends." Bantering is entertaining, when it is done from arms length apart and he could at least pretend to have _some _control.

"On?" A whisper in his ear as Monte leans forward, tickling him with the silky strands of hair and the lingering scent of mangoes that invades his nose. It is subtle enough not to distract him from Monte's natural masculine smell, but strong enough to make his head spin whenever he's close to him.

James tilts his head so their noses brush affectionately. "On whether Gabriel truly means it, of course."

The logic in his mind advises against this but his brain has shut down all thought sensors to focus more on the pleasant sensations. And he isn't that willing to fight it.

"Of course," Monte breathes. A hand rests just beside his head while his chin is gently tilted up by the pads of slender fingers. Warm, soft lips administer soft kisses on his cheek, down his jaw and his neck - his weak spot. He groans, finally regaining use of his arms and using them to pull Monte closer, aching for contact.

At this movement, he exhales a rush of air across James' neck and it's all he can take. A little thread of thought escapes the sensation barricade and he entwines his fingers in Monte's hair, easing him back so he can look into his eyes.

"Does he… mean it?" Unfortunately, his voice isn't steady for this question, and betrays the anxiety that he feels in asking it.

He feels weak in more ways than one, but it has already been asked. He is rewarded with a serious look from Monte which serves to accentuate his features, and cool fingers resting on his neck, his cheek brushing the others'. A tight embrace is his answer and all the answer he needs.

"Gabriel?"

James presses his forehead to Gabriel's, feeling his chest tighten, and wonders what the strange sensation is. Tentatively, he wipes away the wet beads that cling to long lashes and kisses him softly, nipping playfully on his lower lip. It only takes a few moments for Gabriel to return the kiss, but the frantic need has subsided, and James' only want, is to take it as slow as possible to savor every feeling.

It was by his own foolishness really that he has chosen not to think and notice anything outside of the world that the boy's kisses and touches create for him. He isn't aware, but could have been, of the soft footsteps that followed him.

Where is back is pressed, on the opposite side, separated by a wall of books, is Lily's, bent so that her hair conceals her face, and her tears.


End file.
